


Eggnog

by notastranger



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Blacksand - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 08:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notastranger/pseuds/notastranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Sandy have too much eggnog and give Pitch a hard time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eggnog

It was a warm summer night when Pitch rose on slithering shadows out of his lair and skulked into the surrounding forest. Skulking was about all he could do these days, still weak from his battle with the Guardians. He kept his gaze down, dark and sullen, and consequently failed to notice the patches of frost rapidly melting on some of the tree branches.

But he did notice the laughter. It was loud and irritating, and was coming from above.

Pitch looked up and caught a glimpse of white hair through the foliage. "Jack Frost," he snarled, hands curling into fists.

"Hey, Pitch!" Jack dropped out of a tree, not terribly gracefully, letting the wind catch him at the last moment. There was an unusual red flush to his nose. "How's it hanging?"

The sight gave Pitch pause, momentarily dampening his anger. "Are you drunk?" he asked incredulously.

Jack started snickering. "Maaaaaybe," he replied. "I had some eggnog.” He wobbled unsteadily on his staff. “A lot of eggnog. 'S really good. You ever try it? Does it really have eggs in it?"

"I have no idea." Pitch stepped forward cautiously, shadows gathering at his feet. Weak though he was, he had enough control over his powers to be more than a match for an inebriated Frost. Perhaps it was time to exact a little revenge for having his plans for world domination so thoroughly ruined. A small, cruel smile appeared on his face. “And what brings you so close to the Bogeyman’s lair?”

“Uh… dunno.” Jack scratched his head. “I mean, I did know, but I guess I forgot…” His blue eyes crossed as he tried to remember and Pitch took advantage of his distraction to edge closer. A few more steps and he’d be able to snatch Jack’s staff right out from under him; he’d break it in two – no, three - no, _twenty_ pieces, and then thoroughly trounce that cocky little upstart!

A shadowy hand was just within range when Jack suddenly burst into hysterical laughter, startling Pitch and postponing his attack. “Oh, man! I just realized something!” Jack gasped between laughs. “Your _name_. You have the word ‘boogie’ in your name! That’s so ridiculous!” He laughed harder and slid off his staff, landing on the ground in a giggling heap. “No wonder no one takes you seriously!”

Pitch’s shadows flared around him like flames. “You insolent brat!” he growled, abandoning his stealthy approach and launching himself towards Jack.

Something warm and heavy slammed into his back and he fell face first into the mossy earth. He heard Jack let out an appreciative whoop. “That was awesome, Sandy! You’re like a ninja or something!”

Pitch struggled to stand back up, but the best he could do was shift the weight off his back and roll over. And sure enough, there was the smarmy little dream-weaver himself, hopping up and down and smiling smugly.

Was it Pitch’s imagination, or was there an orange flush to Sandman’s face? Did he and Jack think they could just get sloshed and then harass Pitch as much as they pleased? He bared his teeth in rage and re-gathered his shadows, but before he could attack, Sandman unleashed a volley of dream sand. It wrapped taut around Pitch’s wrists and legs, and despite struggling fiercely (and swearing up a blue streak), the bonds rendered him immobile in an awkwardly seated position.

Meanwhile, Jack managed to get back on his feet. He meandered over to Sandman. “Hey. Hey, Sandy. Did you hear what I said to Pitch? About his name?” Sandman giggled silently and formed an image of a leaky nose above his head. Jack laughed so hard he snorted.

“That isn’t funny!” Pitch shouted. Jack and Sandman looked at him and then burst into a fresh round of laughter. “That isn’t funny to me!” Pitch clarified. “Release me this instant!”

“Nuh-uh. Not until you do the thing, Sandy. The thing I dared you to do.” Sandy flushed harder and shook his head a little. Jack gave him a friendly shove. “Come on, man, do it! I didn’t chicken out when you told me to TP Bunny’s warren.”

As Pitch listened, his outrage ebbed away, replaced with a cold worry in the pit of his stomach. He tried to corrupt the dream sand keeping him in place, but it was impossible to concentrate, too distracted by his fear of what horrible things Sandman might do to him.

The Guardian of Dreams floated over to Pitch with surprising timidity, then bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. A “no” symbol appeared above his head. If Sandman could have made a sound, Pitch swore it would have been a girlish squeal.

“Come onnnn,” Jack laughed. “Just do it, already!” He tucked his hands under his arms and flapped his makeshift wings. “Bawk bawk bawwwk,” he cackled, sounding more like a frog with a throat condition than a chicken.

Sandman turned around and stuck his tongue out at the winter sprite before returning his attention to Pitch. He lowered himself until he was touching the ground. With Pitch sitting, they were nearly eye-to-eye, and close enough to touch. Sandman stared at him intensely and Pitch unconsciously flinched and shut his eyes, expecting another blow to the face or something worse.

The feeling of small hands smoothing his hair back into place was a surprise, as was the feeling of those same hands gently cupping his face and tilting it downward. But all of that was a drop in the bucket compared to the electric shock that ran down his spine when Sandman pressed his lips against his in a kiss.

Sandman’s lips were soft as silk and warm like a lazy afternoon beam of sunlight. Pitch gasped at the touch and Sandman took that as an invitation to lightly catch one of Pitch’s lips between his own. The Nightmare King trembled – how long had it been since someone had kissed him so tenderly – and Sandman gently stroked the sides of his face, as if reassuring him.

Those small, delicate hands undid him. He slid his thin, cool lips against Sandman’s and gently probed the other spirit’s mouth with his tongue. Sandman eagerly reciprocated, and Pitch wondered absently if he, too, would become intoxicated on that sweet taste of nutmeg and cream.

Jack made a gagging sound, abruptly killing the mood. “Ugh, gross! I dared you to kiss him, Sandy, not stick your tongue down his throat!”

Sandman ended the kiss and floated over to Jack, wrapping a stubby arm around the boy’s neck and aggressively ruffling his hair with the other. “Okay, okay!” Jack laughed and slipped out of the dream-weaver’s grasp. “You win, you did it. What’re we doing next?” Sandman made a few sand images above his head and Jack grinned. “Elf icicles? Yes, I am so on that. Race you back to North’s!”

The Guardian of Fun raised his staff and let the wind lift him up and carry him away, but not before bumping into a few branches and scaring an owl or two into flight.

Sandman floated back over to Pitch, but the shadow-wielder wouldn’t look at him. “Had your fun, did you?” he muttered, finally trusting his voice not to betray his emotions. “Better hurry if you want to catch up with your partner in crime.”

There was a light, gentle touch on one of his arms before Sandman bounded away. His dream sand formed a fat, cheerful dove underneath him, and with a flap or two of its wings, the dream-weaver was airborne and flying north.

It took several long seconds before Pitch could corrupt the dream sand enough to break free. He rubbed his wrists and silently cursed that floating pastry puff for indulging in too much eggnog and agreeing to Jack’s dare. He noticed some lingering dream sand on his arm and was about to wipe it away, but paused when he realized that the golden glitter was shaped into words.

 _I’m not drunk_.

Pitch’s eyes widened and he looked up hurriedly into the night sky, but the sparkling dove was just a speck on the horizon.

Perhaps the next time he saw Sandman, Pitch thought as he traced his finger over the glittering letters, he’d act out a little dare of his own.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by Sandy's adorable eggnog consumption in the movie.


End file.
